404 name not found's blog: "Poetry ... "

In this cold yet warming room, I feel alive,Though I am dead.
I can't feel any pain, Yet my mind remembers how things feel,So now it all shall begin..
I lay here, On what is but a steel table,My clothing removed by scissors, Stripped I am, Baring it all, I can not move a limb, I can not even move my lips, So that they may know I am still some how alive...
My glasses missing so my vision is blurred, My possessions all gone.
This person above me, I do not know his name, Yet he seems to look at me in wonder,He walks around me and thinks out loud,  
How did it happen?Was this killer insane?What caused so much blood loss?What did one do to this body and make it so bruised?How could one even hurt this small girl, With nothing left yet the horrid memories that are locked away in her brain?
He proceeds to do his work, He takes my hands and moves them slow,As if I am but a fragile soul,He cares for me like no other for one last time,By positioning my body like so,
Gently closing my mouth, My eyes he brings them to a calm, By closing them as well. 
I see nothing,Yet I can still see all at once,Feeling without feeling,As the man now sprays my body with a liquid,I can feel and see he is dabbing my body with something soft and light,With such care and a gentle touch,I feel as if I am all life.
Making his next move,To make the small incision on my collar bone,Spreading a fluid,Through my veins,Making my blood leave this useless fleshy corpse.He does a few more things as to insure my body's final liquids are drained.
Careful as to close these small incisions,He then takes water to my cold lifeless skin,He takes his time to make me look beautiful,As if I am alive and to be put upon a pedestal,My eye lids are colored, My hair is done with curls,My lips with color,Of a light red,He Treats me like a lover with talking to me as I know he stares,To look and wonder what it feels like, To have had just one last night,With making love to my body,He does what he can to hold back,Yet he is a lonely man, And he tends to run his fingers across my chest.But remains calm and to work he is again.
I am but a lifeless toy to him,He with his fanacies,He takes me for his own,Not letting anyone know,I am but his play toy,So he tells me this,Whispering words of love and pain, He is but a lonely man, Who is filled with shame.
My hair  and make up is done,So all that is left is my new outfit,He thinks long and hard as to what I shall wear,Because he said I have a dinner party to attend, So that I must wear that of a dress.The few that he has, so beautiful they are,He makes his decision carefully, As to show off to the rest of the guests,His new lover, Who is me.
Giving the last bit of finishing touches, He gives me a few brushes of my hair, He slips onto me even some underwear,Some stockings and bra,Fallowed by my dress, Ah a perfect one he says,So simple and yet just right,He says it will capture my eyes,If they were to ever open at all.
At last he says the words I knew he had been waiting to say,
I love you my sweet little dead girl,This were you will stay, With me and here for ever.